


Blank Space

by RoseWinsdor



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-07-29 04:48:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7670701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseWinsdor/pseuds/RoseWinsdor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This nightmare dressed like a day dream could charm her way through London society but could she charm her fathers heart? Guinevere Holmes was back in town to win him over. Or so she said. Not even Sherlock knew for sure which side she was on. It didn't help that she also had a steamy relationship with Moriarty... inspired by Taylor Swifts Blank Space</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“You can’t be allowed to continue. You just can’t. I would try to convince you but everything I have to say has already crossed your mind.”  
Sherlock turned his body, eyeing the snake of a man who in turn evilly smirked with a gleam in his eye.  
Looking at the bewildered John, who was his main priority Sherlock tightened his grip on the gun. An understanding flashed between the two friends and Sherlock knew that Moriarty had to be stopped no matter the cost.  
“Probably my answer has crossed yours.” Sherlock said as he raised the gun to Moriarty. A wave of anger washed over Sherlock as he exchanged glances with his nemesis who was smiling back at him as if daring the detective to actually shoot him. Sherlock lowered the gun to the explosives looking back up at Moriartys expression.  
Moriarty had to admit he was impressed with the choice of maneuver Sherlock used against him. The criminal, however internally blanched thinking of how selfless Sherlock was being. Sherlock had such a great mind why did he waste it on the likes of John Watson, who was cowering in the corner never taking his eyes off of Sherlock who was playing the hero.  
John glanced at Moriarty, who had his hands in his pockets as if he was going for a stroll.  
John turned back to his friend whose only movement was his grip on the gun, everything else about him resembled a statue.  
Breathing deeply John braced himself for the worst, knowing it was about to come as soon as Sherlock pulled the trigger and blew the tension filled place in the sky.  
The silence was broken by the Bee Gees Staying Alive.  
Sherlocks steely gaze was ripped from his nemesis as he looked around wondering where the music was coming from. Slightly fazed John looked around and made eye contact with Sherlock as they shared confusion over the song.  
Looking back to Moriarty they noticed him looking almost annoyed with the situation. As if they were friends Moriarty asked if Sherlock would mind if he took it.  
Bemused Sherlock responded, “Oh no please, you’ve got the rest of your life.”  
Moriarty pulled out the phone and looked at the caller id. The face he made resembled one a teenager would make seeing their mom calling them while out with friends.  
He took it and asked what they wanted, looking over to Sherlock apologizing.  
John couldn’t believe it and kept blinking to see if the sight before him was real.  
After listening to the conversation for a while he changed his grumpy demeanor to a deadly rage.  
“Say that again! Say that again and know that if you are lying I will skin you.” After a brief pause and much confusion on Sherlock and Johns behalf, Moriarty said all right and put the phone down.  
“Sorry, wrong day to die.” He said taking a threatening step forward.  
Sherlock, wondering who that could have been on the phone, piped up “Did you get a better offer?”  
“You will be hearing from me Sherlock.” Moriarty said going back to the mysterious caller on the phone walking out of the darkened pool.  
“If what you’re saying is true, then I will make you very rich. If you are lying I will skin you and make you into shoes.” With that he snapped his fingers and the red dots were gone.  
Somewhere in Moscow, Russia a terrified man dressed in a suit was tied to a chair pleading for his life to the woman in front of him.  
“Did you tell him?” The woman asked in perfect Russian.  
The crying man nodded. “I told him that you were alive and where to find you. You can kill me if you want, but Moriarty is the only man who can bring an end to your tyranny. He knows you are alive and he is going to bring you down.” The man said, gathering up his last strength of courage.  
The woman approached the man and placed a gentle hand on his face. “My dear confused man, you have just made the biggest mistake of your life.” With that, she kissed him on the forehead telling him sorry and stood up.  
She removed a match from her jewel studded clutch and struck it on the box. One of her henchmen doused the crying Russian in lighter fluid as he screamed and pleaded.  
“Ready the car Dimitri, it looks like I am returning to London.”  
The man who poured the fluid on the crying man nodded his head and left.  
“You know there is a special place reserved for you in hell!” He shouted.  
“Yes there is. It’s called the throne.” She said as she tossed the match on the man who quickly lit up in flames.  
She turned around and strutted out of the doors, her Louis Vuitton clicking on the floor as she hummed along to the agonizing cries of her newest victim.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a pounding at the door which woke Sherlock up.  
He had passed out on the couch after spending almost all night working on finding Moriarty. He groggily stood up still in his pajamas and house coat and answered the door running a hand through the messy curls on his head.  
Opening the door, he noticed through tired eyes that it was Detective Lestrade.  
“Good Morning Detective. Can I get you a cup of tea?” Came the ever so chipper voice of John Watson, who emerged from the kitchen wearing a nice green sweater and was holding two cups.  
“Sadly I’m only here for a visit. Something has happened Sherlock and I’m afraid it’s not good.” Lestrade said running his fingers through his salt and peppered hair. Sherlock had deduced this habit to be a nervous tick, something to do only when he had terrible news to deliver.  
Sherlock who was still bitter about being disturbed from his much needed slumber blew air out of his nose.  
“Well then no need to be dramatic and drag it out. What is it?” Sherlock asked, still blocking the friendly detective from entering the flat.  
“Sherlock don’t be rude, let him in.” John said chastising Sherlock.  
“Of course, Lestrade would you like to come in? Please sit in my favorite seat. John just went grocery shopping, would you like all of the food we have to offer? Perhaps I could prepare a bed for an overnight stay.” Sherlock rambled annoyed with the both of them. These dull humans were using up precious time he had to work on finding Moriarty.  
“Sherlock!” John hissed under his breath, embarrassed to call the detective his roommate.  
Lestrade who was tired of the bickering and had work to do finally came out and said it.  
“Sherlock, she’s back.”  
The curly haired man paused from the papers he was previously browsing and looked up. A wave of panic arose from the detective as he processed the news.  
“Who is this now?” A clueless John asked as he ushered Lestrade into sit on the couch with him after clearing a bit of Sherlock's mess of the couch.  
“Are you sure?” Sherlock said, still frozen in his place never taking his eyes away from the detective who was fiddling with his coat nervously.  
“I am positive. She is back.” He said with a sigh fearing the worst and only wondering what was going on in Sherlock's mind.  
“What are you positive about? Who is this mystery woman?” John asked now a very confused and slightly annoyed John asked.  
“What proof do you have?” Sherlock asked in a very quiet voice as he put down the papers he was holding and took a seat in the chair across from Lestrade and John.  
Lestrade sighed as if debating whether or not to show Sherlock the evidence but instead pulled out a very elegant envelope and handed it to Sherlock.  
John couldn’t see what was written, but he could see fancy gold cursive writing on the front.  
Sherlock opened the envelope and gasped when he took out the invitation. John had never seen Sherlock this speechless in his life. Not any sort of sound was coming from the energetic detective.  
Carefully Sherlock looked back in the envelope and saw something else. He pulled out a picture and blanched, putting his head in his hands.  
“Will someone explain to me what is going on?” John yelled frustrated with the situation. He stood up and ripped the picture from his friends hand.  
It was a picture of a girl next to Big Ben. There was nothing out of the ordinary except for the woman in the picture.  
She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.  
She was wearing skin tight black leather pants with high stilettos making her seem to have spidery long legs. On top she wore a very low cut black blazer with nothing on underneath it. She had long almost black curly hair pulled back on her head by large sunglasses.  
She was absolutely stunning.  
John turned the picture over to read the inscription.  
“I’m back. Did you miss me?”  
“Sherlock, who is this? What is the invitation for.” John asked, fearing the answer.  
Instead of replying the genius handed the soldier the invitation.  
“A wedding.” Sherlock replied as he folded his hands resting his hands on top of them in deep thought.  
John peered at his friend gauging his reaction.  
“Whose wedding? Sherlock, who is getting married?” John asked as he looked at the invitation.  
It was a normal wedding invitation stating the name of the bride and groom which made John even more confused.  
Sherlock was silent for a few more minutes clearly deep in thought.  
“My daughter.”  
Sure enough, when John looked down at the invitation he saw the name Holmes.  
Guinevere Holmes.

“How could you have not told me you have a daughter?” John quietly seethed as an elderly lady turned around and glared at them.  
Sherlock who was indifferent to his friend's distress continued looking around the church taking in every last detail.  
John realizing that he was going to get nothing from his friend who was lost in thought gave up.  
As soon as Sherlock told him his daughter was getting married the detective forced him to put on a tux and abandon his plans with his date to go to the wedding that day.  
“Who doesn’t even know that their own daughter is getting married? Shouldn’t you be walking her down the aisle? Who is her mother? Why haven’t I heard you speak of her? How did Lestrade know you have a daughter but not me? How did she know you would get that invitation? How did-“  
“John honestly stop speaking, I am not able to think with you constantly chattering. Besides it wasn’t important to tell you about her.” Sherlock interrupted as the old lady in front of them glared again.  
John was baffled by the man before him. This was typical Sherlock, hide the fact that he had a daughter and then think it to be unimportant. Surveying the room around him John took in the beauty of the church.  
Of course it was Westminster Abbey.  
The abbey was decorated with black roses and ladies dressed in their best. Apparently the man she was marrying was a duke making Sherlock's daughter a soon to be duchess.  
“Well I will say this, your daughter knows how to pick them.” John mumbled to his friend as they stood up at the start of the music. Her bridesmaids wore the deep shade of red and were holding black roses. According to the paper, the bridesmaids were all related to her fiancée Edward. Edward was a man who was older than John himself. He was completely taken back by the whole situation, but decided questioning it was useless seeing how the young girl who was marrying a duke twice her age and telling her father about it last minute was a Holmes. And to a Holmes, social norms don’t exist.  
Everyone turned at the start of the bridal march and Sherlock braced himself. He was trying to be indifferent, but it was so hard when she had come back into his life.  
John peered around the hat of the lady behind him to get his first glance of his best friends daughter.  
She looked like a goddess.  
She was floating down the aisle wearing a strapless black dress that looked like something fit for a princess. She was holding blood red flowers that matched her lips perfectly. John could see the resemblance between Guinevere and Sherlock as she approached the altar closer to where he was.  
She had the same curly black hair and piercing blue eyes. She had a long, slender frame and powerful jaw line features similar to her father's.  
John tore his eyes away from her to look at his friend whom he had found was looking back at him.  
Sherlock leaned down to his friend and whispered, “Don’t get any ideas about falling in love with her.”  
Startled John whispered back, “Why would I fall in love with her? She’s half my age and is getting married right now.”  
“She has been with men who are twice my age, and this marriage won’t last. I give it less than an hour.” Sherlock said with a scoff.  
The rest of the ceremony was beautiful. Sherlock knew that everyone in the room couldn’t take their eyes off of the bride dressed in black and he scowled knowing she was loving it.  
Guinevere scanned the crowds trying to find her father knowing that even he would show up. When she found him she offered him a little smile which just made his frown deepen. She sighed, knowing she would have some patching up to do.  
“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.” And with that Guinevere and the forty year old man kissed and became husband and wife.  
Suddenly, there was a commotion from the back of the church. In came ten masked men with guns yelling for the girl.  
Guinevere sprang into action and amidst the chaos of everyone who had panicked she found her father.  
Grabbing his hand, they dashed out the door and into the getaway car.  
“Wait, my partner! John!” Sherlock yelled behind him, wondering where his friend was. He was John in the crowd leaving the church. He was forcefully pushed down by one of the men onto the ground.  
Sherlock ran towards his friend, but it was Guinevere who reached him first.  
From beneath the skirts of her dress Guinevere pulled out a small pistol and shot the unsuspecting man in the back. Another masked man who heard the commotion shot, but missed leaping on top of her.  
By now all of the guests had escaped and some of them lay dead in the church the Duke Edward included. Sherlock raced to his friend dragging him to the car waiting for them.  
“Sherlock, your daughter!” John protested, looking back at the young woman. He became confused quickly upon seeing the tables turn as the girl who had been attacked gained the upper hand and threw him off of her. She dodged his hits with grace and thrust her palm into her assailant's nose with a sickening crack. He fell to the ground in agony as she lifted her skirt kicking up her gun in her hand and shot the man without a second thought.  
The other men who had been searching the crowds for her came chasing after her from across the church, but she was already running down the steps and into the car.  
John stood bewildered at how someone could attack and shoot a man and still look graceful while doing it.  
The three quickly climbed into the car with the Holmes seated next to each other facing John as Sherlock yelled at the man to drive.  
“How did you have this car ready? How did you just fight that man? Why did you have a gun on you? Do you know your husband is dead now?” John barely waited until they were away from the chaos before he fired out questions.  
Sherlock rolled his eyes and eyed his daughter who arched a perfect eyebrow, looking at her father as well.  
In a thick Russian accent the woman drawled “Does he always ask this many questions?”  
Sherlock scoffed “He never stops.”  
“Hello do you people realize that your surprise wedding to a duke was just interrupted by masked men who killed people.” John yelled very frustrated with the Holmes family.  
Sherlock pulled out his phone and began furiously typing something and Guinevere began admiring her long pointed red nails.  
“You should have seen my last wedding! Poor soul didn’t even make it to the ‘Death do us part’ when he keeled over dead. Of course I had poisoned his drink earlier so it wasn’t as much as a surprise as this one was. All though I did feel this attack coming.” Guinevere mused, never looking up from her nails.  
“The last one was the famous mafia leader right?” Sherlock asked turning to his daughter.  
“No that was the one before. This one was the dictator of that small country that tried to declare war on Germany.” Guinevere said with a wave of her hand. Sherlock nodded in understanding as if they were talking about something as simple as the weather.  
John stared at the both of him with his mouth open in shock.  
Guinevere looked up at John Watson and flashed him a dazzling grin, holding out her hand to him.  
“We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Guinevere Holmes.”


	3. Chapter 3

The black car pulled up to an expansive mansion nestled in the countryside just outside of London. John gawked at the edifice wondering if it was a castle. It was made up of big white stones covered in green ivy. The trio exited the car and onto the brick pavement as Guinevere’s chauffeur drove the car off to the garage.  
“Quite the castle you have picked out here Guinevere. Does it come with a dungeon for you to torture your victims in as well?” Sherlock asked clearly irritated with his daughter.  
“It didn’t originally, but I had one installed.” Guinevere replied her red lips forming a smirk as she ushered them under the large archway and into her palace.  
“The house was a gift from my dearly deceased husband. It’s been in the family for years. I loved the English countryside, outdoor feeling about it. I figured it would serve perfectly as headquarters for my new operations.” Guinevere said her accent thing while waving her hand showing off the main room with two large staircases leading upstairs.  
“You are not an outdoor person Guinevere.” Sherlock said flatly.  
“That is not true, I love the outdoors. I drink my wine on the patio.” She said genuinely hurt.  
“Would you like a tour?” She said turning to John.  
Before Sherlock could put in a sarcastic comment John interrupted him.  
“No I would not like a tour I would like to know what the bloody hell is going on.” John yelled breathing heavily through is nose.  
Guinevere arched an eyebrow, clearly not expecting this reaction. She expected him to go along with her little wedding and house party with no questions.  
“I see you have many questions. Come into the drawing room. I’ll bring up my best bottle of red and then we can discuss.” She said with a slight smile as she slowly slinked off to find a servant to bring them a bottle. Sherlock was already making his way to the room, he assumed was the drawing room.  
The drawing room was bright due to the large picture windows and had floor to ceiling bookcases. Dainty chairs and a few love seats were scattered across the room, but the main focus point was by the windows where a large harp rested black against the light coming in.  
“I have played ever since I was a little girl. I was always taught that a lady should have knowledge of music. A harp seemed perfect for me. It seems so big and impressive, but plays the softest music. Quite a big instrument for the little sound it makes.” Guinevere said entering the room. John couldn’t help but notice that her statement about the harp might have had another meaning.  
“It’s a beautiful instrument. Sherlock plays the violin. It appears that the Holmes are a string family. Did he teach you to play?” John asked innocently.  
Sherlocks head whipped around to his friend who seemed confused at his reaction. Guinevere suddenly found something very interesting in her black wedding dress she was still wearing.  
John got the impression he had struck a chord somewhere.  
Thankfully a butler came in with a bottle of wine and three glasses. He poured for them and left, the awkward silence, taking over once again.  
Guinevere picked up a glass with the two men following in suit.  
“I did not spend much time with my father when I was young. An instructor at my boarding school taught me how to play.” Draping herself on a chaise lounge taking a small sip from her glass.  
John awkwardly stumbled over an apology before Sherlock made him sit down as he went to go look out the window on the country side.  
“So Guinevere I like to think I am your father’s best friend. It came as quite a shock to learn that he had a daughter. Naturally he didn’t answer any of my many questions.” John said after taking a sip from his glass.  
Guinevere looked over to her father who had his back to the two. She smiled, thinking about how nice it was to be back with him.  
“Any questions you need answered direct them towards me. My father is a brilliant man, but very blunt and doesn’t always read people well.” She said flashing a small smile towards John.  
“Why do you have a Russian accent?”  
“I grew up in Russia. That is where I went to boarding school. I have been all around the world through. I spend most of my time in Moscow, but London is my home, even though I have never lived here.” She said looking back wistfully at her father.  
Sherlock still didn’t turn around but was listening to every word she said. He felt a slight wave of guilt wash over him. He was hoping John didn’t ask any more questions. He didn’t want John to hear the answers to them. Of course, being John he was curious and kept asking questions.  
“How old are you? You don’t seem very old to be getting married.” John said, looking between the father and daughter.  
Before Guinevere could give her own answer Sherlock interrupted. If John was going to learn all of his dirty secrets he would rather John hear if from him.  
“She is twenty two. She was born on July 3rd, 1993. She was an accident. She was never supposed to happen. I was sixteen years old at the time and an avid abuser of drugs. I was on an extreme high and wasn’t thinking straight. I got her mother pregnant from a one night stand and a year later I was told that I was a father. I haven’t talked to her mother since Guinevere last visited me which was when she was ten years old. Her mother isn’t important and I don’t want to hear any more questions about the topic. In fact, I think this was enough for today. We should be taking our leave now. John I will be in the car.” Sherlock said forcefully putting down his untouched glass of wine and quickly stomped out of the room not making eye contact with his friend or daughter.  
As soon as he was out of the room he leaned up against the nearest wall holding his beating heart. He thought it was going to burst out of his chest. He had so many thought circulating throughout his mind, he couldn’t think straight.  
He needed a cigarette.  
Back in the room John was awkwardly looking at his glass of wine, refusing to make eye contact with the girl in front of him.  
“Well my father has always been one for the dramatics hasn’t he?” She said trying to put on a brave face even though it was clear that Sherlocks words hurt her.  
“I should be going I guess.” John said awkwardly standing up and taking one of her slim soft hands in his shaking it.  
“It has been a pleasure meeting you Guinevere. I hope I will be seeing more of you.” He said the last statement more like a question.  
She wiped the sadness from her face an instead smiled at the man in front of her.  
“Oh yes Mr. Watson. I have no intention of leaving London. You will be seeing much more of me.”  
John climbed into the car and looked at his friend who was nervously chewing on his left thumb nail a habit he did when he needed a smoke.  
“You could have handled that better. You didn’t even hug your daughter. Or say it’s nice to see you. You didn’t even say hello not a simple hello.” John said chastising his friend.  
Sherlock stopped biting his thumb and looked at his friend as the black car lurched forward. He contemplated what to say to John.  
“I would not hug her if my life depended on it. Do not let her smile fool you John. She will kill you without blinking if it suited her. She is a monster and only cares about her money and looks. I have no intention of rebuilding my relationship with my daughter. I can see it in your eyes you want us to have daddy daughter moments but I regret to inform you that I refuse to spend time with her. She is evil and a monster.” Sherlock said all of this very slowly and seriously hoping his friend would understand him.  
John just looked at him and shook his head.  
“Unbelievable. Sherlock it is clear that she came to London to spend time with you. I was watching her talk about her home Sherlock. She wants to be here with you. She wants to begin a real relationship with you. Yet you treat her like this. Unbelievable.” John said, shaking his head again looking out the window.  
Sherlock did the same and observed the buildings on the drive back.  
“You will see what I am talking about soon John. You are blinded by her beauty right now. That’s how she gets away with it. Just you wait. She will show her true colors soon and then you will see the real Guinevere.” Sherlock said, closing his eyes resting his head against the window, knowing that all though he wanted the girl out of her life she was not leaving anytime soon.  
Later in Guineveres mansion she had changed into black lingerie with a sheer black robe around the ensemble. She was looking out of the window at the night sky thinking about her father and the events of the day. Guinevere was anxious, almost as if she was expecting a visit.  
“Here is that bottle of wine you asked for mam’.” The butler said coming into the room.  
“Thank you Manson that will be all.” Guinevere said deep in thought sighing. She had this itching feeling that he was going to show up. Perhaps she was losing her touch.  
Just then there was a crash downstairs and the sound of screaming.  
Guinevere looked up, a grin on her face. She was right.  
“On second thought Manson, fetch another glass.” Guinevere said turning around with a broad smile.  
While he was retrieving a glass she dimmed the lights in the room and lit the fireplace.  
Manson came back with another glass putting them on the table and exited the room through the two French doors.  
Guinevere retied her robe and poured two glasses of wine, leaving one on the table. With a lazy smile she returned to her spot looking out the window.  
Suddenly the French doors were thrown open.  
She heard the doors close and then slow heavy footsteps.  
“Please, join me. I had a glass poured for you. I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show up.” Guinevere said without turning around knowing just who it was.  
“Quite ironic, because I was beginning to think that you were actually dead.” Came the quite low voice of the intruder.  
“That is your first mistake. You will never be rid of me.” She said smiling taking a sip.  
“Oh believe me, I am aware of that. I am reminded of you every morning.” He said taking off his dress jacket unbuttoning his shirt.  
Guinevere turned around to admire her handy work.  
Standing before her was Jim Moriarty smartly dressed with his shirt unbuttoned revealing a scar on the left side of his chest. She walked up to him and traced the scar with her manicured fingers.  
She traced the big loopy G and H with a smile, remembering the night she gave it to him.  
“You and I have unfinished business Guinevere Holmes.”


	4. Chapter 4

“I see you have noticed the name change.” Guinevere drawled making sure her accent was thick.  
“Guinevere Sokolov. Looking back the name never suited you. I should have known that despite your accent you had no real ties to Russia.” Moriarty said buttoning up his shirt. He picked up the glass and sat down on a chair. Guinevere sat across him on a sofa.  
He hadn’t changed at all since they last saw each other. He had the same black eyes that always had the evil glint to them. His dark hair was still perfectly gelled into place. His suit was black and tailored especially for him a trait Guinevere always loved about him. He had quite the eye for fashion. He was exactly the same except for the big scar scrawled across his chest. She smiled, thinking of the night she gave it to him, the last time she ever saw him.  
“But Guinevere Holmes that is quite the name it’s also very interesting that you brought it up. I just recently met a Holmes myself.” He said adjusting his collar with a smug look.  
“Ah yes my father. My contacts told me that you two had met.” Guinevere said with an unwavering look at the man.  
He looked down at his ring and smiled. He knew he had hit a bit of a pressure point with her. Moriarty had many plans for the elder Holmes, but right now his main focus was on the girl that had eluded him for the past year.  
“How did you do it? How did you fake your death?” He said quietly after a long pause.  
He face lit up into a devilish smirk.  
“To die is an art. It is a beautiful skill. If properly done right, dying can be magical, and a magician never reveals his secrets.” She said batting her long eyelashes at him.  
He breathed out a sigh of annoyance.  
“I saw you go into your home. They lit it on fire. Everyone else came out but you.”  
“I was most offended that you tried to burn me out. Don’t you know that I don’t get burned, but I do have a nasty habit of setting others ablaze? Did you actually listen to me when I said this would be forever or it would go down in flames? The scar on your chest proves that you and I are forever. You are one of the lucky ones, the few that passed the test. You and I are forever, but that wasn’t enough for you.”  
“Your whole house burned to the ground. How did you GET OUT!” He said standing up and screaming.  
She sat there quietly and just cocked her head at the furious man in front of her.  
“It burns you to not know how I did it. You hate not having an answer. Well I will give you only one answer you will ever need. The only way I am dying is by my own hand.” She said very seriously.  
He let out a very long frustrated breath followed by a long silence. Moriarty walked over and joined her on the sofa. She didn’t move and kept an unwavering eye on him as he rested his arm around her on the sofa.  
“I thought you were dead. I thought you were dead for over a year.” He said very seriously.  
“You were the one who ordered a hit on me. You were the one who wanted me dead. You were the one parked out in a car as you watched my house get set on fire. You might not have been holding the matches but you were the one that tried to kill me. Why are you so reminiscent of your time spent in Russia?” Guinevere replied slowly gauging his reaction.  
“I was angry with you. In my defense you had just tattooed your name across my chest, quite literally. Of course I was going to try and kill you, you do remember who I am don’t you?” He said as if calling a hit against the woman he loved was the most obvious thing in the world.  
“I was hoping you would get out. I was hoping you would come out and see who you were dealing with. I was hoping you would see what all I was capable and see all that I could do. But you never came out and that’s when I realized that I had actually killed you.” Moriarty said more intimately.  
Guinevere didn’t respond and instead sipped her wine looking at him through her lashes. She set her glass down and flicked a stray hair back into her intricate up do.  
“Like I said you can’t kill me that easily. You think I didn’t know what you were capable of? Why do you think I chose you? Out of all of the men in that room, all of the rich and powerful men in that room why do you think I choose you? You weren’t as rich as some of the older men and you weren’t as handsome as the younger. You weren’t like the other men I normally play. I choose you because I knew what you were capable of.” Guinevere said honestly staring deep into his eyes.  
She took his hand in hers and cracked a small sly smile.  
“I looked into you later that night and I fell in love with you. You were dangerous. You had killed many people and didn’t feel burdened by their deaths. You were a genius. You were easily the smartest man in the room. You were a wild card and I fell in love with you the moment I saw you. You were like me. I knew what you were capable of and that’s why I loved you.” She said her eyes never wavering from his.  
“Then why didn’t you come back? You ‘escaped’ and then you left. Why didn’t you come back?” He said standing up and looking out of the window at the starry night.  
Guinevere rolled her eyes and huffed angrily that her little confession of love didn’t work on him. She got up and stood behind him, hoping to try again.  
“I couldn’t stay. I never stay. The men that don’t make the cut get burned. The men that pass the test never forget me.” She said, putting his hand over his chest where her initials were carved into his chest.  
“But I never stay. I can’t stay I have to move on. It’s the way I play things.” She said with a shrug removing her hand.  
“And it’s all a game to you isn’t it.” He said angrily turning around to face her.  
“Love is a game.” She said, putting her hand up to his face cupping his cheek.  
He closed his eyes and let out a sigh removing her hand.  
“What happened in Russia is history. I do not dwell on the past. You always said hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Hell has not met me. Please join me. You and I together can do great things.” He said, leaning over here his evil eyes staring into her soul.  
Guinevere just laughed at him turning around to pour herself another glass of wine.  
“Things are different now Jim.” She said with a smile and a shrug of her shoulder.  
“You might have bested me back in Russia, but we are in London now. This is my city. I can get you to do what I need. We wouldn’t want daddy to get hurt would we.” He said the last part slowly.  
He was waiting for a reaction from her. He wanted to make her riled up. He wanted to find her pressure points.  
She simply set her glass down and looked him square in the eyes with a small smile completely unfazed.  
“Leave Sherlock out of this. He has nothing to do with you and I.” She said with a wave of her hand.  
“What would happen if I was to kill your father the same way I was to kill you.” He said unimpressed by her reactions.  
“Go ahead and try your worst. My father was never there for me. He means nothing to me.” She said, raising her glass to him.  
“I intend to do my worst.” He came up to her and took her hand in his.  
“I will be seeing you around Guinevere. Until then.” With that, he walked out of the room, leaving Guinevere by herself to smile.  
The fly was falling into the spider web perfectly.  
And Guinevere couldn’t wait to make her kill.


	5. Chapter 5

"Sherlock it wouldn't hurt to ask her." John said whispering under his breath.

"I don't wish to know the answer." Sherlock replied keeping an eye on the kitchen.

Not wanting to know an answer is not normally something Sherlock would say, but when it came to his daughter Sherlock wanted nothing to do with her.

"Do you boys take sugar with your coffee?" Guinevere asked in a chipper voice from within the  
kitchen.

John had scheduled a mid morning coffee get together with Guinevere hoping that this event would go better than the last one. So far it had not. Sherlock had refused to greet her at the door and then before she could sit down she insisted that she make the coffee despite being the guest.

"No sugar for me, thank you." John hollered from his chair. He signaled Sherlock to give her an answer but he just sat there adjusting his violin strings.

"Sherlock doesn't take sugar either." John said with a huff at his friend.

Guinevere entered the room and set the tray of coffee down careful not to get any on her Paolo  
Sebastian black sundress. She had decided to dress modestly for the event and decided that her simplest black dress and her plain Valentino red high heels would be perfect for the occasion. She pulled half of her curly hair back and wore her staple red lips to tie the look off. In her opinion she looked rather plain and felt bit like a slob.

"Thank you for having me this morning I'm so glad we could get together again. My, I haven't seen this apartment since I was a little girl."

She looked around feeling nostalgic about her childhood years when she would eagerly hope for the last Friday of the month when she would take the train to her fathers. Her short legs still in her school uniform skirt would swing back and forth as she told the other passengers all about her father and what a wonderful man he was. The train would pull up and she would grab her luggage and run out onto the platform hoping to see her tall father standing there ready to scoop her up in his arms and take her out to dinner while asking about her day. Instead she was always met by Mrs. Hudson making some excuse as to why her father was held up at work but wished he could meet her at the train. Deep down Guinevere knew that her father didn't want to meet her and that he wasn't sorry. Mrs. Hudson would always take her back to the apartment and they would talk for hours until the late nights when her father would come home. Guinevere would run from the kitchen into the living room so excited to see her father. He always took one look at her and lit a cigarette retreating back into his room mumbling about the next case.

"I must say it has gotten cleaner since John moved here. When I came to visit the place would  
always be a mess." Guinevere added after her awkward silence.

"I try and keep it neat but it's hard when he comes home. Guinevere, do you happen to know of a man by the name of Jim Moriarty?" John asked looking hopefully at her. Guinevere paused while adding her sugar.

"Who?" She asked with a sweet smile.

"His name is Jim Moriarty and he runs some sort of criminal activity. We were wondering if you had any sort of connection to him or have heard anything about him. He has been terrorizing your father for a while and we need more information on him if we wish to get to him." John said hoping she would understand.

Guinevere looked offended.

"What makes you think I would know anything about criminal activity?" She said clutching her heart.

"Because you are a criminal." Sherlock added getting up to move to his desk to shuffle through some papers.

"I am no criminal. Everything I do I am authorized to do. I have special permission. I do not work outside of the law." Guinevere said looking intently at her father. "I have never heard of Jim Moriarty. I try not to associate myself with criminals."

There was an awkward pause in the room which was interrupted by Mrs. Hudson coming up with the mail.

"Oh Sherlock I didn't mean to interrupt you- Guinevere!" Mrs. Hudson set down the mail and embraced the young woman.

"Look at you! You're all grown up. I hardly recognized you. It was that curly black hair that gave you away. Sit down please! How have you been? Where have you been? It must have been about ten years since I last saw you. You look beautiful. Oh how did you do your makeup like that? You will have to teach me. Are you staying lon-"

"Mrs. Hudson will you please shut up!" Sherlock exclaimed as he slammed the papers he was looking through on the desk.

"Sherlock that is no way to talk to Mrs. Hudson. I am fine." Guinevere said turning to Mrs. Hudson who looked slightly fallen at being yelled at by Sherlock. "I was in town for a wedding. I have spent most of my time in Moscow where I handle my own business. Occasionally I have to go to St. Petersburg for business trips. You would love it there! And I just use a very black and sharp eyeliner." Guinevere finished with a charming smile.

"Oh my you're a business woman! What business are you in?" Mrs. Hudson said innocently looking at Guinevere.

John and Sherlock sat forward anxiously waiting to see what sort of an answer she would give to the landlady. How could she cover up whatever her job was really called?

"Well technically I work for the government. I am a missing persons investigator. I just have my own private branch that helps out the government." Guinevere said flawlessly never missing a beat.

"Our own little Gwen is an investigator. My how you've grown up." Mrs. Hudson said looking at Guinevere with love.

"Her name is Guinevere. Not Gwen." Sherlock piped up from his corner. "She was named after Queen Guinevere from the tales of King Arthur. Lady Guinevere was a beautiful, desirable, yet manipulative woman. Or at least that was what the book said. Who knew the book I was reading in the waiting room at her delivery would have such good foreshadowing?" Sherlock said not even looking up from his papers.

An awkward silence swept across the room once more.

"Well would you look at the time. I have some shopping to do." John said looking at his watch while putting on his coat.

"Yes I have some cleaning to get done as well. It was nice to see you again Guinevere! I do hope you will be back and we can properly catch up!" Mrs. Hudson said following John as he left.

The door closed leaving Guinevere and her father the only ones left in the room.

Sherlock barely noticed the emptiness of the room and Guinevere decided to take this as an opportunity to have some bonding time with her father.

"Matushka is doing well. In case you wanted to know. Even though she always hated it when I came to visit you, she was the one that made me do it. She said I should get to know my father, mostly because she never did know you. She feels bad for keeping me away from you." Guinevere said this hoping he would look up and talk to her.

Sherlock didn't look up.

"I'm not here on some hidden agenda you know. I'm here because I wanted to get closer to you. I know you never liked me and that you haven't even thought about me for the past ten years but I have thought about you. I am here to make things right. You have it twisted in your head that I am some cold blooded killer. I am not." She said pulling up a chair closer to the detective.

He paused looking up from what he was doing. He got up and went into his room coming back with a file, placing it on the table in front of Guinevere.

"What is this?" Guinevere asked looking up at her father.

"This is your file. It includes everything about you since you turned eighteen." Sherlock said quietly.

Guinevere refused to open it up knowing full well what all horrors she would see if she did.

"You said I never cared nor noticed you but I did. I always have. You forget that when you were young I was young as well. I was about your age when you first started visiting me from your boarding school. I was upset that I had to put up with a small child while I was trying to work. I was young and immature. After your mother banned me from seeing you when you got older I realized that I had made a mistake. You were my daughter. You were my own flesh and blood and I treated you as if you were nothing. I knew I wasn't allowed to see you because your mother thought my lifestyle was a bad influence on you but I still wanted to be a part of your life. I had people keep eyes on you. I wanted to make sure you were safe. You were a normal teenager, you had friends, you enjoyed going out, and you had a few boyfriends. But then you turned eighteen and you journeyed on a dark path. I was still tracking your habits even when you were committing these awful crimes. I know everything. You have killed thirty four men. Thirty four. And not just murdered but burned to death. That is your preferred way of killing I have noticed. You seduce rich old men into falling in love with you and then you kill them taking their money as your own. And don't say it isn't a crime. Killing people like that is. I know that you have the governments approval because the men that you kill are all threats and criminals but that doesn't mean that you are innocent in all of this. You have changed since we last saw each other Guinevere. I am a detective. I am good and Guinevere you are evil." Sherlock said this all very fast and he refused to look at Guinevere the whole time.

"What makes you so sure that you are good and I am evil. Yes I do murder those men but it's my job. Do I get pleasure out of watching those men suffer? Yes because they are scum. They cheat on their wives, they run mobs, they drink too much, the kill they are not worthy of redemption. And yes I do burn them. Every serial killer has a different way of killing their victims. This is just mine. I give them a chance. If they admit to ever being in love with me they are forever. They get my initials carved into their chests so that they never forget the girl who bested them. If they say no then they die. Most men just make the wrong choice and say no. Only one man has passed my test so far. Yes I murder but it is legal. You should know better than anyone. I am here to build a relationship with you again Sherlock. I am staying whether you like it or not. London has gotten boring since I have last been here. I think it's time to shake things up."

And with that she rose from her chair and strutted out of the door.

Angel face.

Devil thoughts.


	6. Chapter 6

"Uncle Mycroft!" Guinevere exclaimed. The normally formal man looked up from his desk to meet the young woman dressed in all black. He broke into a smile and stood up embracing his niece.

"Guinevere I had no idea that you were back! How are you? My you do look very grown up." Mycroft said touching her cheek playfully.

"We were just out and about and I figured we should stop by and say hello." Guinevere said gesturing to John who was cautiously standing behind her. John never knew Mycroft to be a sentimental man and seeing him happily embrace his niece was something he had not expected. John figured that since Sherlock was so cold to his daughter the rest of the Holmes family was as well. Evidently not judging by the light hearted conversation they were having.

"I had no idea you two were close." John said gesturing between the two Holmes in front of him. "Uncle Mycroft and I have more in common than we do with Sherlock. There's a picture of the two of us up on his wall over there." Guinevere pointed to the back wall where sure enough there was a picture of a younger Mycroft and a little Guinevere standing next to a horse. John got closer to the picture. Guinevere must not have inherited much from her mother because the little girl looked just like Sherlock. She had high cheek bones bright blue eyes and curly black hair that refused to stay put. She was smiling broadly looking up at the horse which was being held in place by Mycroft. John noticed that her front two teeth were missing and there was a run in her stocking. It was odd to think the polished assassin was once a small innocent child missing her front two teeth.

Due to the fact that he was scrutinizing the picture so intently John didn't even notice Mycroft sliding a file over to Guinevere who quietly placed it in her oversized purse with a serious glance to her uncle.

"Well I'm sure you have work to do and John and I have places to be so we will have to sit down for a cup of tea and my place sometime later." Guinevere said drawing John's attention away from the picture back towards the uncle and niece.

"How about tomorrow over lunch." Mycroft said smiling at the woman.

"That sounds lovely I shall see you then. John?" Guinevere said gesturing the doctor out the door.

"Where are we off to now? I still think it's odd that you asked me to help you run errands instead of your father." John noted but at this point he was well aware of the tension between the father and daughter.

"Well I need to use the ladies room for a minute if you would just wait here." Guinevere said walking away without even listening for his reply.

She walked into the bathroom inside of the building where Mycroft worked. Locking the door behind her she opened the file Mycroft gave her. As she read she began to smirk.

"All right John it's time to go shopping." Guinevere said walking out of the bathroom with a smile on her face. This job would be a piece of cake.

"Why are we going shopping?" John asked getting into her lavish black car.

"A girls got to have something to wear. And I'm assuming that you don't have anything suitable for a white tie event?" Guinevere asked looking over her phone as she set up plans for tonight.

"I do own a suit it might be a bit small because I haven't worn it in a few years but it should wor-"

"No no no no John. White tie. This is not prom night. White full dress shirt with white pique wing collar, white bow tie, white shirt studs, black double breasted tail coat, white waistcoat, white cufflinks, black pleated pants with satin stripes on outer seam, black opera pumps or perhaps patent leather oxfords." Guinevere said as if a white tie dress code was the most casual thing in the world.

"I don't even know what those things are." John said astonished.

"Exactly. But don't worry. I am taking you shopping. Hope your schedule was cleared for the rest of the day. You and I are attending a party tonight."

As the car pulled up to the store John panicked. "Guinevere I can't afford anything from here."

"I shall pay for everything. Do not even think about it." Guinevere said waving her hand as the driver helped her out of the car. She was dressed very casually today wearing a flowly button down blouse which was tucked into high waisted leather shorts. Both black of course and accented by red Louis Vuittons and red lipstick naturally. Walking into the store she pushed her expensive oversized sunglasses onto the top of her hair and breathed in the smell of leather and diamonds. She turned around to John who looked like he was afraid to touch anything and clapped her hands at him.

"Time to get to work!"

Ten minutes later John was dressed in a full white tie get up and he felt ridiculous.

"Do I actually have to wear this?" He called out from inside the dressing room.

Guinevere who was keeping herself occupied outside was fiddling with her diamond earrings.

"John it would be social suicide to show up to a white event in anything but white tie dress code."

"Dress code? Christ I feel like I'm back in primary school. You know fashion is not really my thing." John said picking at the bow tie on his neck.

"No John you've got it all wrong. Fashion is what you buy. Style is what you do with it. Come out and let me get a look at you."

John excited the large fitting room and cautiously walked out careful not to scuff the shoes that were more expensive that his paycheck. He felt awkward and uncomfortable. Guinevere looked at him and grimaced.

"You would look very handsome if you would just relax and be confident. Like I said fashion is what you buy but style is what you do with it. The clothes are fashion. The way you wear them is style. Relax your arms a bit. Lift your chin up. And don't forget to breathe." Guinevere said with a giggle.

John relaxed and walked a little further concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. Guinevere crooked an eyebrow walking up to him.

"Look at you? How do you do it? How do you walk with confidence? And how do you do it in those heels?" John asked as she approached him.

She laughed. "One of my teachers said to keep your heels high and your standards higher. I suppose I just took it to heart. If you're going to blend in tonight you need to relax John. And no you do not look stupid. I could see it on your face. Every day is a fashion show and the world is your runway so dress your best and walk with confidence."

"Why do I have to go to this party anyway?" John asked as he retreated to the dressing room to get changed back into normal human clothes.

"Because I figured you would want to see me in action." Guinevere said twirling a strand of her hair."

"What do you mean in action? Are you going to kill someone tonight?" John said alarmed.

She let out a laugh. "No. Well not unless it comes to it. I'm here to set up a trap. A bit of a web you might call it. There is a fly at the party tonight and I am the spider." Guinevere remarked looking away from her nails to the file in her purse.

John emerged from the room looking at her intently.

"You want me to come so I can watch you seduce someone?" John said putting it into simpler words.

"You said you loved watching my father play his game. Now watch me play mine."


	7. Chapter 7

“Guinevere. We’re a half an hour late.” John said knocking on the door to her room.   
“Come on in I’m in the bathroom doing my makeup.” Guinevere chimed back. John entered the room and marveled at the size. Frank Sinatras Luck Be A Lady was playing from the speakers in the bathroom.   
“Are you about done?” John asked looking at the Rolex that Guinevere had bought him on a whim last minute.   
“Don’t rush me darling. It’s better to arrive late than arrive ugly.” Guinevere replied from inside the bathroom. “Be a dear and fetch me my heels.”   
John went into her closet and searched for the light switch. Turning it on he realized it was a chandelier in the middle of an expansive walk in closet. Every article of clothing inside it was black.   
“Which shoes do you want?” John said tearing his eyes away from her wall of designer purses.   
“My heels.”   
He turned to the shoe portion of her closet. All of her shoes were heels.   
“Which heels?” He called again.   
“The black ones.”   
Looking the rack over he realized that they were all black.   
“They’re all black.”   
“Nevermind I’ll find them myself.” She called opening the door. She stepped out in a strapless silk mermaid dress black naturally. Her neck was drizzled in priceless diamonds with matching earrings. The open window that blew one strand of her updo to the side combined with her sultry dark eye makeup, bold red lips, and Frank Sinatra made quite the entrance. It’s like Guinevere always said. “An entrance is sometimes a girls most powerful weapon.”   
“Wow.” John Watson said eloquently. “You look beautiful. I wish your father was here to see you. Do you ever wear anything but black?” He remarked.   
“I’ll stop wearing black when they make a darker color.” Guinevere said sliding past him into her closet selecting a black heels with an open toe and small ankle strap.   
“I didn’t know which ones you wanted considering that they’re all black heels. Why do you own so many pairs of black shoes?” He remarked as she grabbed her bedazzled clutch.   
“Give a girl the right pair of shoes and she can conquer the world. I plan on conquering tonight.” She said as they got in the car. They made small talk the ride over and John learned a little more about the party they were attending tonight. The hosts was named Peter Peterson. “Quite an unfortunate name if you ask me.” Guinevere remarked. He made millions in the American stock market. “But not legally.” Guinevere started tapping her nose. He was a friend of her ex husband the duke whose wedding John had attended when he first met Guinevere.   
“I still don’t really understand why you asked me to come tonight?” John said looking over at her as she put on her lip stick.   
“You are my fathers best friend? Why shouldn’t I get to know you more?” She stated simply.   
The party was actually quite enjoyable. People noticed that John didn’t fit in but having Guinevere by his side helped. Every person in the room was staring at her. Wherever she went eyes followed. She just rolled her eyes as if she was used to it.   
“People stare at me as if they’ve never seen a walking goddess.”   
She was a very charming girl. She oozed charisma and charmed every person with her stories. Her eyes and necklace dazzled and she truly was the star of the room.   
“You are nothing like your father. Sure you have his hair and cheek bones but you are nothing like him.” John remarked taking a sip of his champagne glass.   
“I’m actually more like him than you think. Despite my profession I can actually come off as normal. I inherited his brains.” She remarked.   
“Really. You’re as smart as Sherlock?” John said looking at her.   
“Well I don’t know if I’m as smart as him but I am very confident in my abilities. Sherlock solves murders, and I sniff out scandals. Sherlock reads crime scenes I read people. Observe.” She said gesturing to a man across the room.   
A young man probably twenty five years of age was standing across from then chatting with other older men. One of the older men attempted to walk towards the food table to get a refill when he gave a slight trip the young man Guinevere gestured towards instinctively caught him before he fell.   
“That man reacted quickly to the older man tripping meaning that he could have possibly had younger siblings whom he had to look after. Look at his wrist that became exposed when helping the other man. It has a tan line. This suggests that he recently just came back from some place warm. Now what distinguished families from London have been on holiday in the past month? There’s the Prescotts, Harrimans, Cholmondleys, Van Dykes, Walpoles, and Tillingtons. How do I know that? They all share the same investment accounts and took a vacation together to celebrate their latest financial success. Now the Cholmondleys don’t have any children, the Walpoles only have daughters, and the Prescotts children are all very small. This leaves the Tillingtons and the Van Dykes. How do I know that it’s a child of a distinguished family of London? Couldn’t he just be new money wearing a suit and tie trying to fit in with the crowd or perhaps he’s a cousin? No. Look at the ring on his pinky finger. It has a ruby on it. That specific design of ring was only given out to families who helped with the Beringer investments back in the early 1800’s. It gets handed down to the male in charge of the families estate. Now he’s pretty young to be in charge of the family business why is that? Well it’s simple. Walter Tillington just recently died of a heart attack leaving the estate to his son to Benjamin Tillington who is the oldest of four children. Which means that young Benjaman just inherited over 17 million pounds.” Guinevere said finishing her deduction of the young man.   
John stood with his mouth open staring at the girl. Looking at her now he could see much of Sherlock in her. She had the same lifeless rambling voice of her father.   
“Let’s go see if I’m right.” She said putting down her empty glass and picking up two more from a waiter with a spin making her way across the room to the man who was now standing alone.   
“Benjamin Tillington?” Guinevere said approaching him from behind. John who was able to observe and hear everything was astonished when the man turned around at the sound of his name.   
“Christ she actually did it.” John said astonished that she was able to find out just who he was all from a trip, tanline and a ring.   
“Yes. I don’t believe we’ve met.” The young man said looking her up and down.   
“No we haven’t but I have heard all about you tonight. I noticed that your glass was getting low. Here have a drink.” She said giving him one of her glasses. Johns furrowed his eyebrows. They hadn’t heard anything about him at all.   
“You must be the impressive Guinevere Sokolov. Every man in the room is talking about you.” He said taking a sip gesturing towards her. She pretended to act modest looking down with a blush.  
“Would you care to dance?” He asked taking her drink and setting it down.   
“I would love to.” She said smiling up at him. He was like putty in her hands the way he was staring at her. It was almost too easy. In less than two weeks she could have him professing his undying love for her.   
They took a few spins around the dance floor but after two songs she bid him goodbye.   
“I’m afraid that’s all for tonight. I really must be getting back.” She said batting long eyelashes at him.   
“No please you must stay. I don’t know anything about you. What’s the rush to get back?” He said trying to draw her closer to him.   
“Well a girl has to have her secrets. I will be seeing you around Mr. Tillington.” She said with a small ruby red smile.   
With a gesture to John they were out the door before midnight.   
“He seemed like a very nice man.” John noted in the car.  
“He killed his father.” Guinevere noted smoothing out her dress. “No respectful son would be at a party the same month his father had died. He didn’t respect the proper mourning time.”   
“How do you know that?” John asked suspiciously.   
She threw him a look as if it was obvious.   
“Oh right of course I forgot the Holmes always know everything.” John said rolling his eyes. “So is he your next victim. Is he the next one you’re going to kill? Or marry?” John said referencing her past patterns.   
“Perhaps. He did seem nice so he might be marriage material. But I have other places to be, other men to fall in love with, other men to kill. He might just be a get in get bank records and get out type of man.” She said adjusting her hair putting everything back into place.   
“You are a very difficult woman to figure out.” John said looking at her. “How could you live like this. Seducing men making them fall in love with you and taking their money. Do you even feel anything for them?” John asked seriously.   
She stopped adjusting her hair and looked at him.   
“I fall in love with almost every man I see. That is my life goal. To find a true love. That person who will love me not matter what. I meet and seduce all these men hoping that one of them will be the one. So far out of thirty five none of them have been right.”   
“So you’re just trying to find love like everyone else?” John said.   
“Yes there was one person out of the thirty five who I thought was the one. I thought he was different. He wasn’t. I suppose I am what you might call a woman betrayed.” Guinevere said reapplying her lipstick.   
John didn’t know how to reply to her confession. “Why are you putting on more lipstick. Aren’t you just going to bed?” The car pulled out and John put on his coat.   
Guinevere smirked. “Actually I am expecting company tonight.” They said goodnight and went their separate ways.   
Getting out of the car Guinevere looked up preparing herself for the encounter. Her butler Manson met her at the door.   
“Miss Holmes your twelve thirty has just broke in. I put him in the sitting room with a bottle of Château Pétrus.” The butler said taking her wrap.   
“Is Schastlivyi den playing?” Guinevere asked checking herself in the mirror pointlessly already knowing she looks beautiful.   
“Of course Miss.”   
“Excellent. That will be all.”   
Striding to the double doors leading into the sitting room Guinevere entered and smirked evilly.   
“Schastlivyi den? From the Queen of Spades. Our first opera we ever saw together.” Moriarty said looking up from the glass of wine he had poured for himself.   
Guinevere went over to the record player and turned it off.   
“I must admit a very beautiful opera. Of course you had to explain it all to me because it was in Russian but the plot-. A man who hears of an old countess who won a fortune in cards by playing only three cards. He goes to visit her to find out what she played. She refused to tell him so he pulls a gun out and she dies from fright. Later after the funeral the Countess comes to him in a dream and reveals the three cards she played. Three Seven Ace. This is very good wine where did you get it?” He interrupted taking a sip of his wine.  
“Bordeaux, France. I spent a weekend there murdering a diplomat with a very good taste for wine. I just had to pick a bottle up.” Guinevere said taking a seat on the couch next to him not missing a beat.  
“Well it’s very tart. Anyway later he bets all of his money in faro a russian card game played by placing a bet on the winning card. He wins with the three then goes back the next night and wins with the seven then the next night he bets on the ace. But when the cards are shown he has found that he actually bet on the queen of spades and loses everything. The man looks at the card and is terrified when he notices it resembles the old countess. The man goes mad and is admitted into an asylum where he refuses to answer any questions but constantly mutters seven, three ace, seven, three, queen.”   
“You were paying attention.” Guinevere said scooting closer to the man on the couch who in turn scooted closer to her.   
“Not really but I did get your card.” He said pulling out a playing card turning it around to reveal the the queen of spades.   
“I must say breaking into your house is quite easy. It’s almost as if you expect me. In fact I was met by your butler at the front door who took my coat and let me in.” Moriarty recalled with a frown.   
“You are always welcome in my house. Except when you try to kill John Watson.” Guinevere said with a smile.   
“Ahh yes. Straight to the point.” Moriarty said rolling his eyes. “Heard you had a fun time at the little dinner party with Benjamin Tillington. Heard he might be your next little play thing.” Moriarty said putting his arm around the couch where she was sitting.   
“Possibly. I haven’t decided if it’s worth it to get the seventeen million and commit to marriage or to just take my cut of five million and give him the choice.” Guinevere said as if millions of pounds and murder were casual conversation.   
“I plan to kill him before you can get close to him.” Moriarty said dismissively.   
“Why? He’s mine. I had him first.” Guinevere said defensivly thinking about the money.   
“Yes but I heard that you two were dancing rather close tonight. He seemed very taken with you.” Jim lightly pressed his hand to her cheek.   
“Silly boy. Hasn’t he heard hasn’t he heard not to play with things that aren’t his?”   
“You would kill a man just because of a few dances with me.” Guinevere said flirtatiously.   
“I would kill a man for a cup of tea.” Moriarty said with a snort.   
Guinevere reached up and cupped his face with her hands.   
“And that is why we are perfect for each other.”   
“If we are so perfect. Why didn’t you accept my offer? Why did you hide from me? Why are you working for them?” Moriarty said annoyed.   
“You tried to kill John tonight. Don’t think I don’t know about the hit you had ordered on him. If I wouldn’t have taken him to the party tonight you would have killed him. I can’t let that happen.” Guinevere said pulling away from him.   
“You have sided with them. You’ve gone soft. You’re back with Daddy and suddenly you’re no fun. Thought you were on the devils side but no you’re on the side of the angels.” Moriarty said pouting.   
Guinevere sat back amused as his statement.   
“The main difference between my father and I is that he is a devil on the side of the angels and I am an angel on the side of the devils. My father thinks I am in town to reconnect with him and become a better daughter. But you know me I always have a hidden agenda. And for this agenda both you and I need John alive. You want to get to Sherlock then you need to find a better way. You want to destroy my father but also have a little fun with it. You want to display your feathers and show him just how much fun you can be to have as a villain. You won’t do that by ordering a messy drive by shooting of John. The doctor is merely his flat mate. John can’t stand Sherlock. If you want to destroy my father you’re going to have to destroy him from the inside. Make him question himself. Turn the whole world against him.”   
“Will you help me do that.?” Jim asked closing all space between them. “You know I came back to London to find you. To be with you again.”   
“And I came back to London to find you.” Guinevere said lacing their fingers together.   
“I will help you destroy Sherlock Holmes.”


	8. Chapter 8

Guinevere and Moriarty had been working together for quite sometime coming up with a foolproof plan to destroy Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock and John were busy on some case in a small town called Baskerville which meant that the villainous pair had London all to themselves. Together they attended lavish dinner parties, tea parties with members of royalty and the not so royal, and brunch with the deadliest arms dealers in the world.

"May I present to you my love Guinevere Holmes." Jim said taking her manicured hand in his as they sat down for a cup of tea on the terrace of Moriarty Mansion. The gentlemen all seated at the table all stood up as she took her seat next to Jim. She was of course a vision with her curly black hair, red lips, and revealing silk black dress.

"Guinevere Holmes… any relation to the infamous detective Sherlock?" One man named Anthony Schwind an American asked looking up from his cup of tea. He had greasy brown hair slicked back into a comb over. His suit was very expensive but terribly ill fitting. When he smiled at her he beamed yellow teeth.

Guinevere said something in Russian under her breath while hiding her mouth with the cup. Jim who did the same reassured her.

"We need these men. They might be fools but they are rich fools and they know some of the best assassins in the world."

Guinevere sipped her tea composing her thoughts.

"Yes. Sherlock Holmes is my father." She said red lips forming a polite smile.

"I thought he worked for the police. Why is his daughter hiring assassins?" He asked pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it. Guinevere pursed her lips rolling her eyes.

"Do I look like my father?" Guinevere said sarcastically tilting her head to the side. The table full of me erupted in laughter and Schwind made a face looking down.

"No miss you look nothing like your father." He said noting the silk dress hanging off of her body.

"Gentlemen the important thing is that we get our assassins." Jim said wanting to finish business.

"Four highly trained marksmen do not come cheap." Another man by the name of Michael Yates another American noted.

"We have the money." Jim said looking over to Guinevere.

Yates and Schwind exchanged a glance with each other and smiled.

"Deal."

"Well I'm glad that's over." Moriarty said coming up behind Guinevere who was out on the balcony looking at the sunset rolling over the hills.

"Why do we need four assassins?" Guinevere said speculating.

"One for the old woman, one for the investigator, one for Sherlocks lover John, and one for my lovely ex girlfriend the morgue worker." Jim said putting his arms around her waist as she leaned her back into his chest nestling her head into his shoulder.

"The fourth one won't be necessary. My father cannot stand Molly. You should hear the way he treats her it's a wonder she still talks to him. My father would be glad to get rid of her." Guinevere said to Moriarty hoping he would listen to what she said.

"Are you sure?" Moriarty asked speculating whether or not discrediting the strange morgue worker was a good plan.

"I know my fathers mind. He hardly even cares about the other three. He only tolerates Detective Lestrade because he lets him on murder cases. Mrs. Hudson gives him a place to live at a discounted price. And John is his audience. Whenever Sherlock does something fantastic John is always there to see it and praises him for it. Sherlock has no real ties to people. He is not capable of caring for others. He doesn't even care for his own family, Mycroft, me, my grandparents. He truly cares for no one." Guinevere said turning around to look him in the face. "But my father will still try and save those three annoyingly dull people because that's what he does. He's a good guy he has to save them. And at that point we will have him so ruined he won't be able to live any more. And if you follow through with your suicide plan he will have no proof that Jim Moriarty exists." Guinevere said looking into his dark eyes.

"I suppose we could save money by not hiring the fourth assassin. That money could take us someplace better. How do you feel about Fiji?"

"Can I still wear black there?" Guinevere asked with an evil smirk.

"Perhaps someplace with more history and better wine how about Tuscany." He said with a smile that never reached his eyes.

"You know I would follow you anywhere in the world. My whole life I have been dreaming of finding my true love, someone who embraced me for who I am, someone who would love me no matter what. After much searching and seven failed marriages and murders later I now realize you are that person." Guinevere said kissing him on the cheek and walking out of the mansion into her car.

"How was it?" Her personal secretary Margot asked looking up from Guineveres schedule inside the car.

"Sometimes men are so easy, and foolish I debate becoming a lesbian. A woman would put up a fun game they are far more crafty and manipulative. They think with their head. But a man has two heads and they can only think with one at a time." Guinevere said to her assistant with a small laugh.

"Did he remove the assassin from Ms. Hooper?" She asked making a note.

"Yes. We're going to need her. She's the only one who can help Sherlock." Guinevere said ushering the driver to be on their way.

"Are you really going to run away with him after all of this?" Margot asked with a hushed breath.

Guinevere looked up to see Moriarty from his bedroom window, his figure illuminated in the light.

"Depends on if I get a better offer." She said as they drove away.

"What do you need to do tomorrow? Your schedule is cleared." Margot said looking up at her boss.

"I need to find a better offer." Guinevere said relaxing into her Rolls Royce as they drove back to her mansion. Her plan for Sherlock and Moriarty was falling into place.


	9. Chapter 9

They were both glad to be out of Baskerville. The town made both John and Sherlock feel uneasy. They were glad to be back in their daily lives. None more than Sherlock who was on his way to drop papers off for his brother. It was very late at night there was no way he would be in the office at this hour which was good for Sherlock who tended to try to avoid his brother as often as possible.

Upon reaching Mycrofts office he noticed the light was still on.

Had someone broken in?

Looking through the window of the door he noticed Mycroft was seated at his desk and was walking to someone.

After waiting a moment Sherlock threw open the door. Startled Guinevere looked up from the chair she was seated in across from Mycroft. Sherlock noticed files in Guineveres hand that were no doubt given to her by Mycroft.

Sherlock couldn't think of any logical explanations.

"What is the meaning of this?" He asked looking between his brother and daughter.

Mycroft stood up and tried to draw Sherlocks attention away from Guinevere who was discretely placing files in her oversized leather tote.

"Sherlock no need to get worked up about this. I was just having a chat with my niece. I've been so caught up with work and she has been out of town vacationing while you were away we were just catching up." Mycroft said defending his niece.

Sherlock strode over to Guineveres purse and removed the files. Opening them up to look at them he realized that they were overviews on known criminals.

When he got to the last one he had to take a seat from the shock.

Showing her the file he looked up at her with betrayal.

"You know Jim Moriarty?"

"Perhaps we should go someplace else and talk. How about we go grab a cup of coffee." Guinevere said trying to take the files back.

"You know my sworn enemy. Why do you have all these files on criminals?" Sherlock said standing up again yelling.

"Sherlock calm down." Mycroft said rolling his eyes at his ever dramatic brother.

"I thought you had changed. What ever happened to coming back here for a little father daughter bonding time? I thought you were done chasing criminals." Sherlock said still angry but much calmer.

"I never said I would give up that life. I don't think I ever can. But I did come back for you. The only reason I am in London is because of you. I want to be with my father! I want to get to know you! I want to be your daughter!" Guinevere yelled just as frustrated.

Sherlock stuck his chin out and looked away pretending as if he didn't hear her confession.

"Why was Mycroft giving you files?" Sherlock said anxious to accuse her.

She sighed sitting back down.

"She works for me Sherlock. This whole time she has been working for the British government. I send her a file of a known criminal and she targets them. She is given full permission to kill whoever she deems necessary and because of that we can not pay her. It's one of the most classified projects in the government and only a handful of people know about it. She disposes of the target and in exchange she gets to keep a small sum of their investments and fortune. When financial advisors go over the targets bank statements and records and notice some money missing we always label it a bank processing fee when really the money is going to her in exchange for eliminating the target. These men are dangerous Sherlock. They don't belong behind bars they belong in a coffin underground. Guinevere disposes of evil men and she does it all legally for the British government. She works under my authority." Mycroft said taking a seat at his desk removing his spectacles so he could rub his temples.

Sherlock looked at his daughter like he was seeing someone for the first time.

"So you aren't a freelance assassin. You don't just kill willy nilly and then steal all of the mens money?" Sherlock said studying her for a lie.

Guinevere lied through her smile. "I only kill when I'm told I have never committed a murder that was not sanctioned by the government."

Sherlock tried to read her. He looked for any sign that would give away that she was lying. A glance of an eye, sweat, a nervous touch, a movement in her foot, and crack in her smile, a change in voice octave, excessive blinking. Nothing. He couldn't read anything. He couldn't tell if she was telling the truth or lying.

Guinevere kept her eyes focused on her father. She was too good at telling lies.

Mycroft knew she was lying as well. He was well aware that she committed murders outside of her sanctioned hits. She did kill whoever she pleased but she was too valuable to report and lock up.

"What do you know of Jim Moriarty?" Sherlock could believe that she was secretly working for his brother but he couldn't believe that she knew nothing of Jim Moriarty.

She handed the file to Sherlock who took it back and read over it cautiously. There was nothing in there. Not even a picture. Just a name and few well known facts about him.

"We know nothing about Mr. Moriarty. The only things we know about him are what we know from you." Mycroft said to his brother.

Guinevere smirked to herself. All ready Mycroft was following her plan. By erasing Jims file and only keeping what Sherlock knew they were one step closer to making Jim a figment of Sherlocks imagination and Mycroft was inadvertently helping them.

"Are you satisfied Sherlock?" Guinevere said looking up at her father.

"I have nothing going on tomorrow why don't we spend the day together?" She said smiling. He didn't say anything but just nodded.

"I'll come around your place at noon or so and you can finally play someone who is better than you at chess." Guinevere said with a smile putting the files in her bag as she stood up to walk out the door. Sherlock smirked as well.

As soon as she exited the building she got into her car and looked out the window. It was a dark night and very late so there wasn't much noise. She closed her eyes and rested her head on the window. She was at peace until her phone started ringing. Looking at the caller id her heart fluttered.

"Hello darling." She said looking at her nails.

"My sources tell me that you have just left Mycroft Holmes office." Moriarty said cutting straight to the point.

"Relax. He was giving me files for more potential 'customers' and believe it or not I did you a favor. I erased everything on your file. The only things the British government know about Jim Moriarty is what Sherlock Holmes has told them. Who is to say the Moriarty is not a figment of Holmes imagination?" Guinevere said with a smirk as she double crossed her father.

She could hear Moriarty on the other line let out a laugh.

"Guinevere I have missed you. You're always one step ahead. I think I love you." He said nonchalantly. She could her the danger in his voice and a chill went over her body.  
"Really. You've heard the rumors and all about my reputation and you still have the guts to say you love me?" Guinevere said looking once more at her nails wondering if on her next manicure she should go with a darker red or a lighter red.

"It's funny how rumors fly darling."

"Still my list of ex lovers is quite long and very impressive if I do say so myself. They all say I'm insane. Ask any of them. You have seen me at my scariest Moriarty why do you stay when you know I can kill you. You know that all I have to do is say the word and you have all of Scotland yard and the British government one your back. You're greatest trick is all dependent upon me. We've had a good run together with late night wine tastings, romantic getaways, and heist chases so tell me this, you feel as though you love me now you are in the high but when the high wears off will it still be worth it?" Guinevere said still awaiting his answer. It was a confession that came out of nowhere but Guinevere was determined to find love even if it killed her. She needed to know that Jim wasn't just using her to get to her father.

"You and I are cut from the same cloth. We have no regard for the law or for other peoples feelings. We take what we want and don't care if the methods aren't always orthodox. Together you and I will run this town. I will be the king and you will be my queen and after this week I will have the jewels to prove it. Of course I love you. I understand you and accept you for who you are." He said pausing for her reaction hoping she would say the same thing.

She said nothing just smirked.

"You're breaking into the bank and prison and tower soon do you have the plan in order?" She asked changing the subject.

"I have everything taken care of except the jewels. That glass is too thick to break. There isn't a weapon strong enough to crack it." He said in a dangerously frustrated voice.

Guinevere rolled her eyes. "There is always a way in. After all diamonds are a girls best friend." With that she hung up the phone and rolled her eyes once more. Was he truly as smart as he let on? How could he not know that diamonds would break the glass.

Margot who was in the car looked over at Guinevere and she raised her eyebrows.

"Aren't you going to tell him you love him back or are you going to keep baiting him? Perhaps after all this time he really is the one?" Margot said with a half smile at her friend.

"Perhaps he is. But no I will not tell him. I've got to drag it out, play hard to get, torture him a little. That's how boys like it."

In all actuality Guinevere didn't want to commit. Moriarty was the perfect match for her and she of course felt something. But was it love? Was it the kind of love she wanted. The kind of love that grew old together and welcomed each other with a smile as they came home from work. She didn't have much time to make up her mind before this whole scheme started. But for now she was spending a day with her father.


End file.
